


Killer Robots are a Sole Survivor's Best Friend

by NMWolfgang



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NMWolfgang/pseuds/NMWolfgang
Summary: That’s it.
Gal Pal!
	The sound of his own chuckles brought him back to reality.  The fact that he was debating names for an Assaultron was bad enough, but that he decided on one?  Yikes.





	

“ _Engaging!_ ”

“Stop that!”

The whirr of the Assaultron’s head laser began to fade. Exhaling, Gadget looked up from the tall grass to see the small herd of radstag does fleeing the scene. Damn it! Standing up, he turned to his mechanical companion.

“What part of stand still and be quiet do you not understand?”

“ _This unit is ready to serve!_ ”

_Just pointless_ he thought to himself as he began to head down the road, the soft, powerful thuds of his robo bff close behind him. He had hoped to grab an animal close to the farm and bring it back for food, a thank you for allowing a total stranger to stay on their property overnight. Oh well, I guess there’s a better chance to find leftovers in a building or something. Because who doesn’t love irradiated mashed potatoes?

“I mean what the heck, am I right?” He said softly, so as to not activate his personal killing machine trailing behind. As if being treated like a box of fish sticks wasn’t bad enough, he now has to survive the aftermath of a problem he, in one way or another, helped create.

_Being hard on yourself won’t get you anywhere, Francis._

Thanks Grams, but I don’t think now’s the time for a pep talk. The world of today doesn’t allow for small luxuries like thinking things out or resting on a couch to clear your mind. And besides, he wasn’t Francis anymore. He was Wolfgang Gadget. I mean, every other raider had a fun nickname to be remembered by as they raped and pillaged the lands, why couldn’t he?

Except you aren’t a killer, dumby. Being a six foot four nerd doesn’t really translate well into this world, as it turns out. With almost bleach-like blonde hair, straw colored skin, freckles, and even sunburn resting on his face, he’s just as much a scarecrow in the present as he was in the past. Matched with his poor aiming skills and frail frame he was less a threat and more the world’s easiest target. Thank god he had his own personal bodyguard with him.

He turned back to his Assaultron and smiled. Why? It doesn’t know you’re doing that; it’s just a machine. But that was kind of the name of his game. He always found it easier to have machinery around him than people. Evident from his time spent with the army. As if his memories of the army are even remotely tangible anymore.

  
His mind slips back to the outside world at the sound of a rotted branch snapping beneath his foot. Where did he wander to this time? He surveyed the area; rusted rails and overturned train carts. A small building.

_Bedford._

He had forgone searching the tiny office due to a small horde of ferals that greeted him previously. Luckily, while he fled at breathtaking speeds, his partner in crime managed to eliminate them. Well, I mean she probably did. Right? She’s like, one of his best pre-war creations, or at least his favorite. Walking up, he could see the trail of fallen corpses that had been, assumingly, after him. Perfect!

Wolfgang went to the half-ashen bodies first. I mean, people used to carry stuff in their pockets, right?

“Let’s see…lighter, lighter…. tablespoon? Who carries a tablespoon in their pocket?” he mutters. What were you going to do with that tablespoon? And why was it so important you had to take it with you? Sigh. More vacuous mysteries to remain unsolved.

“ _Sensors detecting sentient life_ ”

Wolfgang froze. Did she just say what I think she just said?. He turns away from the building and looks around. He checks underneath the nearby train carts, and even manages the gusto to look inside a couple. Nothing. Must be going haywire. It was only a matter of time really. How well preserved can something be after about 200 years? Relieved, he lowers his rifle and heads back to the building. After some delicate finagling, he manages to open the door.

_Oh._

_So the robot was right._

Now, maybe it was the noise the ghouls made; that long, breathy sound that reminds him of toxic gas being sent through an air duct, or maybe it was those darling yellow eyes peering up right through Wolfgang’s fragile soul as they stood getting ready to mutilate him. Or maybe it was that sudden diarrhea feeling he got mixed with the front porch still being slightly oiled from gasoline. But the fact of the matter is, he fell. He fell right on his bony butt as he tried to step back and raise his rifle, and was now practically flat on his back ready to become a less than acceptable appetizer for these abominations. It’s been real, Earth.

“ ** _Engaging!_** ”

Busting in through the side entrance with a well-placed kick and installed determination, his Assaultron began to show the extent of her beauty and grace. Equipped with laser rifles on each arm, the inside of Bedford Station’s office building became little more than a disco party from Hell. In seconds the feral ghouls were headless or dust. Okay, so there were only two, but it was pretty impressive nonetheless.

So impressive Wolfgang began to cry.

Not a big ugly cry, mind you, but one that helps get rid of all that extra adrenaline. A little eye twitching, a sniffle, a few silent tears, nothing special. What’s the point? He couldn’t help but wonder. You become the government’s personal science experiment, you end up in a world riddled with radiation, and you don’t even get superpowers? Let alone the ability to aim your gun without falling? What a load.

Standing up, he wiped the trace of tears from his face and headed inside. After a little scavenging, he managed to find some InstaMash and a couple units of Blamco Mac n Cheese. Just what the doctor ordered. Putting the food away in his robot’s carrying bag, he turned and left through the side entrance, looking up. The sun was setting already? Must have gotten up to late in the day. Hopefully this token of appreciation will warrant another night on their floorboards.

The dynamic duo began heading back up the way they came, letting Wolfgang slip back into the recesses of his mind. He never considered himself lucky, but he would get a lottery ticket after the events he’s managed to survive. That is, if there was still a lottery. All because of that darn robot.

_You know, you named her._

I’m not calling her…it, that.

You know, coming out of a deep freeze can be really upsetting. So when he became reunited with the Assaultron in the basement of his half-sisters home, after stumbling around the hot, rotted trail back down to Sanctuary from Vault 111, naturally he became overwhelmed with emotions. This is what propelled him to carve her name into the chest plate of this robot. A desperate attempt to hold on to the world that was, and will never be again.

_Donna-Maria._

_But she isn’t!_

He was right. D.M. was gentle, sweet, a big smile. This was a killing machine. If it were a real person, she’d probably be that bitchy friend that everyone loves. The girl you want to go to the mall with and people watch. A real gal pal.

_That’s it._

_Gal Pal!_

The sound of his own chuckles brought him back to reality. The fact that he was debating names for an Assaultron was bad enough, but that he decided on one? Yikes.

A few steps more and Wolfgang could hear the soft ‘moo’ being made nearby. Pausing, he followed the noise and came upon a Cow…er…Brahmin. But not a fully-fledged Brahmin, and not a calf either. Maybe a Brahmin runt? Eh, it will have to do. Raising his rifle, he began steadying his aim. Two quick shots to each head, and he had a meal fit for a king.

“ _Engaging!_ ”

Wolfgang, defeated, dehydrated, and dismayed, lowered his gun and turned to see his creation coming in at a side angle toward the Brahmin, one laser hand raised.

“Fine, you want to kill the stupid two-headed cow? Go ahead!” He hasn’t raised his voice once since being thawed out, and quite frankly it felt good.

Firing one carefully placed shot, the Assaultron managed to pierce both heads and the beast quickly toppled to the side. “ _Standing down_ ” it…she, said, and quickly locked barrel’s as she approached the animal, bent over, and hauled the Brahmin over one shoulder. Using her arm and weaponry to hold it into place, Gal Pal turned her head toward Wolfgang.

“O-ok, that works” he muttered, trying to not think through the possibilities of what his robot was able to comprehend. Did she know what they were after this whole time? Did he program her that well? He was having a hard time remembering what he was able to accomplish in the past, aside from a few key memories here and there. Maybe she was more capable than he thought?

“Gal Pa-….er, Assaultron, take the Brahmin and head back to Tenpines Bluff” he half-commanded, half-mumbled.

“ _Processing_ ” Gal Pal stood still for a moment, turned her body swinging the Brahmin with her, and started up the path they had been previously trailing, a thin line of blood being left behind.

Wolfgang, flabbergasted, stood still for only a moment before quickly catching up, keeping close to stay alive. He started to think about what was to come in this new world, and if he’d be able to handle it. Before trailing off to far into the challenges of the future, his mind snapped back to one of his grandma’s favorite tv programs, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and the theme song she would sing along to as the opening credits played.

_You might just make it after all._

_I just might, grams._


End file.
